Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows AU
by Trippett
Summary: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows AU. H/Hr.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: Hope**

Harry Potter staggered his way through the horde of students that were now residing in the small courtyard. His face twisted in anguish as he finally saw the proof; now knowing his eyes hadn't deceived him when Albus Dumbledore, the most powerful and respected sorcerer in the world, had been hit by the killing curse, before plummeting off the top of the astronomy tower.

As soon as he reached the front row of spectators, he broke away from the crowd and went to kneel in front of the dead body of the headmaster...The General, his mentor, his friend.

Respectfully, carefully, Harry began moving stray pieces of silver hair out of the old man's cold, weathered face. As soon as he finished, he glanced down at the floor, not able to keep the tears at bay. On the floor lay the necklace that they'd spent half the night trying to obtain.

_If this is the price..._Harry thought as he picked it up, clenching it in his fist, _they can have it back! Nothing's worth this!_

His jaw clenched as he slowly pocketed it, before turning to glance at the crowd, who were all crying unashamedly. His best female friend quickly emerged from the crowd and almost collapsed into Harry's arms, as she sobbed into his shoulder. Tightening his grip on Hermione, he did the same.

A few seconds later, which felt like hours, Harry saw something move in his peripheral vision, so looked to see what it was. He moved slightly to keep Hermione as comfortable as could be, while glancing to see Professor McGonagall raising her left hand, wand clenched in its grasp, to point towards the Dark Mark which boar over the school like a death banner.

The tip of the professor's wand lit up slightly, and as many of the other students were all following by example, Harry nudged Hermione gently to get her to take a look. She lifted her tear streaked face out of the hollow in his neck to glance at him, obviously wondering what had got his attention.

He quickly motioned with his head towards the Professor, and now, most of the crowd. Hermione glanced over, before returning to face him, giving a small nod. Harry sighed slightly as he shakily took to his feet, lifting Hermione up with him.

Facing the headmaster, he then took his wand out, and clenching it tightly in his left hand, lifted it towards the heavens.

He closed his eyes, trying to block out the pain of everything that had happened in the last 24 hours.

Because he had closed his eyes, e never noticed that Hermione had to take a step away from him, as so much raw magical energy was swirling around his body. He also never noticed that his wand was emitting periodic flashes of light, (not unlike when he produced his first patronus) which sent itself into the sky and through the dark mark, dispersing the angry clouds that were creating it.

Slowly, Harry began lowering his wand to his side. He let out a long breath, before opening his eyes, staring at nothing in particular. He was so numb, he hardly felt it when Hermione took his hand, and moving in front of him, buried her head into his neck again.

His hands automatically slid around her waist, before burying his own face into her hair.

"Shh." He said, swallowing back tears. "Everything's going to be alright, I promise."

Hermione pulled away slightly to stare at him in incredulously. "Harry...Dumbledore was our best hope!"

Harry sighed slightly as he stared at the person in question. "It was his time, Hermione." He said, before glancing back to her. "He told me what needs to happen for me to succeed."

Hermione stared at him for a moment, before a sad smile appeared on her face. "What needs to happen for _us _to succeed..." She said pointedly.

Harry instantly shook his head. "I don't want you getting involved...it's too dangerous."

Hermione gave a dry laugh. "It'll be about as dangerous as every year has been, here, at Hogwarts!" She pointed out again, before taking both his hands from around her waist to hold tightly in her own. "I'm not leaving you, Harry."

Harry sighed partly in exasperation and partly in impatience. "Why won't you just listen to me, Hermione?!" He asked, as he pressed his forehead gently against her own in an intimate gesture.

"Because..." She said as a strange expression crossed her face, "love makes you do stupid things..."

"Mione..."

"Don't! I know what you're going to say...you're going to say that we can't be together because he's after you...I shouldn't have said anything at all...I'm sorry." Hermione blurted out quickly, looking lost, before turning around and instantly disappearing into the throng of student's sorrowfully talking.

Before he could register anything else, he was running after her.

He caught up with her on the stairs to the astronomy tower.

Catching her wrist gently, he spun her around to face him.

"Don't you leave me to!" He said in desperation as he saw her battle with the urge to run again.

After a few seconds, Hermione's shoulders slumped slightly, before she moved back to lean against the wall. She then proceeded to slide down it until she was seated. A moment later, she was joined by Harry.

They stared at the wall for a moment; not knowing what to say.

"You love me?" Harry asked at last, as that fact finally registered itself.

He could see out of the corner of his eyes as Hermione nodded her head slightly.

"Yeah..." She said quietly. "I thought I was in control of it, though!" She suddenly said in frustration.

Harry laughed slightly. "The Closest to Being in Control We Will Ever Be is in the Moment that We Realize We're Not." He recited, before shaking his head. "Not sure where I heard that before..."

He turned to see Hermione's small smile.

"Brian Kessler." She told him, nodding her head slightly again. She then turned to face him more fully, her face full of worry. "How...how do you feel about me..uh...being in love with you?" She asked with a slight frown.

Harry smiles slightly as he shakes his head. "I don't know...I mean...I thought I liked Ginny...but, now I think about it...now the possibility is open to me. You're my best friend; you know me better than anyone. You never doubted me, even when I doubted myself. You were there for me, when nobody else was..." He said quietly, brainstorming.

"Now you know why." Hermione said as she watched Harry think things through.

"How long?" He asked suddenly, staring at her.

A sad smiled appeared on her face. "Fourth year...Before the first task was when I realized it."

Harry thought on that piece of information for a second, before saying, "Before the task, in the tent?"

She laughed slightly, before nodding. "I was going to tell you then; but I chickened out. I didn't want to distract you...You had enough on your plate without dealing with a hormonal teenage."

Harry smirked slightly, but didn't comment. He then nodded his head slowly, watching her. "Now I see it through a new perspective, I realize...it's always been you." He said quietly, with a small smile. "Always."

They both moved closer until their faces were inches away from each other, before Hermione spoke.

"Are you sure?" She asked, her breath brushing against Harry's face. "I don't want to make you feel like you need to do this to save our friendship of anything..."

"...Shh, don't ruin the moment, Mione." Harry said with a smile, as his lips finally founds her.

Hermione let out a small whimper of approval, before letting a muffled "Sorry..." escape her lips, as she gave out just as much as he was giving in.

When they separated due to lack of oxygen, they were both panting heavily, and Hermione was blushing severely.

Harry went back to resting against the wall with a content smile on his face. "Wow, that was really something, Hermione."

She remained silent, but her blush deepened as she took Harry's right arm and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Where'd you learn that?" He asked, looking down at her snugly wrapped in his arm, after finally getting his breathing steady.

She shrugged slightly. "I don't know...I mean, I didn't. That was my first kiss." She replied, looking down at her hands, which were in her lap.

Harry smiled and gave her a squeeze. "If that was your first, then I can't wait until you get in some practice." He whispered in her ear.

Hermione turned towards him with a smile on her face, smacking him gently on the shoulder. "You're such a romantic, Harry." She said, shaking her head, before resting it down on his chest.

They remained silent for a few minutes, until Harry said what was on his mind.

"This feels...wrong."

Hermione's head instantly shot up to stare at him. "What do you mean?" She asked, "Us?"

Harry instantly tried to reassure her. "No! No, no, a thousand times no." He said quietly, pulling her back towards him.

She relaxed slightly, but still watched him.

"What I meant was...Dumbledore just..." He breathed in and then exhaled slowly, before continuing, "Dumbledore just died...and we're here; being Happy."

"You think Dumbledore wouldn't want this for us?" She asked with a frown.

Harry chuckled slightly, shaking his head. "No; I know Dumbledore would want this for us..." He said, "I think he knew. I mean; he mentioned it earlier on in the term, but, as usual, I didn't think much of it."

Hermione smiled slightly. "I wouldn't put it past Dumbledore." She said quietly. "He was a brilliant man..."

Harry nodded slightly, staring at nothing. "That he was." He whispered to himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: Phoenix Lament**

"Where do you think everyone is?" Hermione asked, after a moment of silence. "Surely McGonagall will be putting together a meeting..."

Harry shrugged slightly. "Her old office, or the great hall..."

"Let's see if they're in the great hall. It's central for everybody." She said, pushing herself up, before offering Harry her hand.

Harry sighed, before taking it.

They walked in silence down the empty staircase, before walking down a corridor. They could see out into the courtyard that many of the crowd had dispersed, but some were still there grieving for the ancient headmaster.

From there, it only took another few minutes to reach the great hall. The entrance hall was deserted, save for the three Ministry Aurors that were talking to each other near the entrance. They glanced up when they heard the pairs footsteps, but quickly went back to conversing when they saw who it was.

Hermione squeezed Harry's hand gently, having not let go after offering him it to help him up. Harry glanced at her, an unreadable expression on his face, before squeezing back just before they pushed the doors open to reveal Ron, Ginny, Luna, Tonks and Lupin gathered around the staff table at the far end of the room.

As soon as the doors creaked open, all five heads turned towards the noise. They breathed a sigh of relief as Harry and Hermione reached the table.

Remus managed to talk first.

"McGonagall will be here soon. She didn't explain to us what happened!...We heard from a few students that the Dark Mark was above the astronomy tower, but Dumbledore would never let anything happen to any of the students while he was on watch!" He said in frustration, as he paced the width of the tables.

"Remus – Dumbledore's dead," Harry said quietly, as he sat himself down at the edge of the Gryffindor table, Hermione joining him a second later.

"No!" Lupin looked wildly from Harry to Hermione, as though the latter might contradict him, but when Hermione didn't, Lupin sunk down onto the bench on the opposite side of the table, looking almost broken, his hands over his face. Harry had never seen Lupin lose control before; he felt as though he was intruding upon something private, indecent; he turned away and caught Ron's eye instead, exchanging in silence a look that confirmed what he'd just stated.

"How did he die?" Tonks whispered. "How did it happen?"

"Snape killed him," Harry said. "I was there, I saw it. We arrived back on the astronomy tower because that's where the Mark was...Dumbledore was ill, he was weak, but I think he realised it was a trap when we heard footsteps running up stairs. He told me to go below and not to reveal myself; no matter what. I couldn't do anything; I'd already given him my word. And then Malfoy came through the door and Disarmed him –"

Next to him, Hermione clapped her hands to her mouth, and Ron groaned from where he was standing. Luna's mouth trembled.

"- more Death Eaters arrived – and then Snape – and Snape did it. The Avada Kedavra." Harry couldn't go on.

Suddenly, somewhere out in the darkness, a phoenix was singing in a way Harry had never heard before: a stricken lament of a terrible beauty. And Harry felt, as he had felt about phoenix song before, that the music was inside him, not without, it was his own grief turned magically to song that echoed across the grounds and through the castle windows.

How long they all stood there, listening, he did not now, nor why it seemed to ease their pain a little to listen to the sound of their mourning, but it felt like a long time later that the doors to the great hall opened again and Professor McGonagall entered.

"Good; you're all here." She said, and the spell of the music was broken: everyone roused themselves as thought coming out of trances, turning to glance at each other, or else to rub their own eyes. "Harry, what happened? According to Hagrid you were with Professor Dumbledore when he – when it happened. He says Professor Snape was involved in some –"

"Snape killed Dumbledore," Harry said.

She stared at him for a moment, then swayed alarmingly; Hermione who was closest to her, moved forwards, conjuring a chair from thin air, which she pushed under McGonagall.

"Snape," repeated McGonagall faintly, falling into the chair. "We all wondered...but he trusted...always..._Snape_...I can't believe it..."

"Snape was a highly accomplished Occlumens," said Lupin, his voice uncharacteristically harsh. "We always knew that."

"But Dumbledore swore he was on our side!" whispered Tonks. "I always thought Dumbledore must know something about Snape we didn't..."

"He always hinted that he had iron-clad reason for trusting Snape," muttered Professor McGonagall, now dabbing at the corners of her leaking eyes with a tartan-edged handkerchief. "I mean...with Snape's history...of course people were bound to wonder...but Dumbledore told me explicitly that Snape's repentance was absolutely genuine...wouldn't hear a word against him!"

"I'd love to know what Snape told him to convince him," Said Tonks.

"I know," said Harry, and they all turned to stare at him. "Snape passed Voldemort the information that made Voldemort hunt down my mum and dad. Then Snape told Dumbledore he hadn't realised what he was doing, he was really sorry he'd done it, sorry that they were dead."

"And Dumbledore believed that?" said Lupin incredulously. "Dumbledore believed Snape was sorry James was dead? Snape _hated_ James..."

"And he didn't think my mother was worth a damn, either," said Harry, "because she was Muggle-Born...'Mudblood', he called her..." He added, squeezing Hermione's hand again.

Nobody asked how Harry knew this. All of them seemed to be lost in horrified shock, trying to digest the monstrous truth of what had happened.

"So when Snape arrived at the fight, he joined in on the Death Eaters' side?" Harry asked suddenly, wanting every detail of Snape's duplicity and infamy, feverishly collecting more reason to hate him, to swear vengeance.

"I don't know exactly what happened," said Professor McGonagall distractedly. "It's all so confusing...Dumbledore had told us that he would be leaving the school for a few hours and that we were to patrol the corridors just in case...Remus and Nymphadora were to join us...and so we patrolled. All seemed quiet. Every secret passageway out of the school was covered," Here she gave a brief nod to Lupin, acknowledging his role in that, "There were powerful enchantments on every entrance into the castle. I still don't know how the Death Eaters can possibly have entered..."

"I do," Harry interrupted, and he explained, briefly, about the pair of Vanishing Cabinets and the magical pathway they formed. "So they got in through the Room of Requirement."

Almost against his will, he glanced from Ron to Hermione, both of whom looked devastated.

"I messed up, Harry." Ron said bleakly. "We did like you told us: we checked the Marauder's Map and we couldn't see Malfoy on it, so we thought he must be in the Room of Requirement, so me, Gunny and Neville went to keep watch on it...but Malfoy got past us.

"He came out of the Room about an hour after we started watch," Ginny said, taking over from her brother. "He was on his own, clutching that awful shrivelled arm –"

"His Hand of Glory," Ron said, "Gives Light only to the holder, remember?"

"Anyway," Ginny went on, "he must have been checking whether the coast was clear to let the Death Eaters out, because the moment he saw us he threw something into the air and it all went pitch black –"

"- Peruvian Instant Darkness Power," said Ron bitterly. "Fred and George's. I'm going to be having a word with them about who they let buy their products."

"We tried everything – _Lumos, Incendio,_" Ginny said, "Nothing would penetrate the darkness; all we could do was grope our way out of the corridor again, and meanwhile we could hear people rushing past us. Obviously Malfoy could see because of that Hang thing and was guiding them, but we didn't dare use any cruses or anything in case we hit each other, and by the time we'd reached a corridor that was light, they'd gone."

"Luckily," said Lupin hoarsely, "Ron, Ginny and Neville ran into us almost immediately and told us what had happened. We found Death Eaters minutes later, heading in the direction of the Astronomy Tower. Malfoy obviously hadn't expected more people to be on the watch; he seemed to have exhausted his supply of Darkness Power, at any rate. A fight broke out, they scattered and we gave chase. One of them, Gibbon, broke away and headed up the Tower stairs –"

"To set off the Mark?" Harry asked.

"He must have done, yes, they must have arranged that before they left the room of Requirement," Lupin said, "But I don't think Gibbon liked the idea of waiting up there alone for Dumbledore, because he came running back downstairs to rejoin the fight and was hit by a Killing Curse that just missed me."

"So if Ron was watching the Room of Requirement with Ginny and Neville," Harry said, turning to Hermione, "were you -?"

"Outside Snape's office, yes," Hermione whispered, her eyes sparkling with fresh tears, "with Luna. We hung around for ages out it and nothing happened...we didn't know what was going on upstairs, Ron had taken the Marauders Map...it was nearly midnight when Professor Flitwick showed came sprinting down into the dungeons. He was shouting about Death Eaters in the castle, I don't think he really registered that Luna and I were there at all, he just burst his way into Snape's office and we heard him saying that Snape had to go back with him and help and then we heard a loud thump and Snape came hurtling out of his room and he saw us and – and –"

"What?" Harry urged her gently.

"I was so stupid, Harry!" Hermione said in a high pitched whisper. "He said Professor Flitwick had collapsed and that we should go and take care of him while he – while he went to help fight the Death Eaters –"

She covered her face in shame and continued to talk into her fingers, so that her voice was muffled.

"We went into his office to see if we could help Professor Flitwick and found him unconscious on the floor...and, oh, it's so obviously now, Snape must have stupefied Flitwick, but we didn't realise, Harry, we didn't realise, we just let Snape go!"

"It's not your fault, Hermione." Harry said firmly, wrapping his left arm around her as she quickly buried her face into his neck. "If you hadn't let Snape go, he'd probably have killed you, and Luna."

"So then he came upstairs," Harry continued, who in his mind's eye was watching Snape running up the marble staircase, his black robes billowing behind him as ever, pulling his wand from under his cloak as he ascended, "and he found the place where you were all fighting..."

"We were in trouble, we were losing," Tonks piped in, in a low voice. "Gibbon was down, but the rest of the Death Eaters seemed ready to fight to the death. Neville had been hurt...it was all dark...curses flying everywhere...the Malfoy boy had vanished, he must have slipped past up, up the stairs to the Tower...then more of them ran after him, but one of them blocked the stairs behind them with some kind of curse...Neville ran at it and got thrown up into the air –"

"None of us could break through," Ron said after a few seconds of silence, "and that massive Death Eater was still firing off Jinxes all over the place, they were bouncing of walls and barely missing us..."

"And then Snape was there," Tonks said, "and then he wasn't –"

"I saw him running towards us, but that huge Death Eater's jinx just mussed me right afterwards so I ducked and lost track of things," Ginny spoke up.

"I saw him run straight through the cursed barrier as though it wasn't there," Remus said. "I tried to follow him but was thrown back just like Neville..."

"He must have known a spell we didn't," McGonagall whispered. "After all – he was the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher...I just assumed that he was in a hurry to chase after the Death Eaters who'd escaped up to the Tower..."

"He was," Harry said savagely, as he felt Hermione rest her head against his shoulder, having finished crying. "but to help them, not to stop them...and I'll bet you had to have a Dark Mark to get through that barrier – so what happened when he came back down?"

"Well, the big Death Eater had just fired off a hex that caused half the ceiling to fall in, and also broke the curse blocking the stairs," Lupin said. "We all ran forwards – those of us who were still standing, anyway – and then Snape and the boy emerged out of the dust – obviously, none of us attacked them –"

"We just let them pass," Tonks said in a hollow voice, "we thought they were being chased by the Death Eaters – and next thing, the other Death Eaters and Greyback were back and we were fighting again – I thought I heard Snape shout something, but I don't know what –"

"He shouted, 'It's over'" Harry said. "He'd done what he'd meant to do."

They all fell silent. Fawkes's lament was still echoing over the dark grounds outside., As the music reverberated upon the air, unbidden, unwelcome thoughts slunk into Harry's mind...had they taken Dumbledore's body from the foot of the tower yet? What would happen to it next? Where would it rest? He clenched his fists tightly in his pickets. He could feel the small cold lump of the fake Hocrux against the knuckles of his right hand.

The doors opened one again to show Hagrid stomping in. The little of his face that was not obscured by hair or beard was soaking and swollen; he was shaking with tears, a vast spotted handkerchief in his hand.

"I've...I've done it, Professor," he choked. "M – moved him. Professor Sprout's got the kids back in bed. Professor Flitwick's lyin' down but he says he'll be all right in a jiffy, an' Professor Slughorn says the Ministry's bin informed."

"Thank you, Hagrid," Professor McGonagall said, turning to look back at the group around Bill's bed. I shall have to see the Ministry when they get here. Hagrid, please tell the head's of Houses – Slughorn can represent Slytherin – that I want to see them in my office forthwith. I would like you to join us, too."

As Hagrid nodded, turned and shuffled out of the room again, she looked down at Harry.

"Before I meet them I would like a quick word with you, Harry. If you'll come with me..."

Harry nodded slightly, but then when he remembered that Hermione was still clutching on to him, he glanced at her.

McGonagall watched him, and gave a brief nod. "Miss Granger is welcome to come along, too."

Harry gave McGonagall a grateful smile, pulling Hermione up with him. They both murmured, "See you in a bit," to Ron, Ginny and Luna, and followed Professor McGonagall back down the Hall. The corridors outside were deserted and the only sound was the distant phoenix song. It was several minutes before Harry became aware that they were not heading for Professor McGonagall's office, but for Dumbledore's, and another few seconds before he realised that, of course, she had been Deputy Headmistress...apparently she was now Headmistress...so the room behind the gargoyle was now hers...

In silence they ascended the moving spiral staircase and entered the circular office. He did not know what he had expected: that the room would be draped in black, perhaps, or even that Dumbledore's body might be lying there. In fact, it looked almost exactly as it had done when he and Dumbledore had left it mere hours previously.

After glancing once at Dumbledore's portrait, Professor McGonagall made an off movement as though steeling herself, then rounded the desk to look at Harry and Hermione, her face taut and lined.

"Harry," she said, "I would like to know what you and Professor Dumbledore were doing this evening when you left the school."

"I can't tell you that, Professor," Harry said after thinking for a second. He had expected the question and had his answer ready. It had been here, in this very room, that Dumbledore had told him that he was to confide the contents of their lessons to nobody but Ron and Hermione.

"Harry, it might be important," Professor McGonagall said.

"It is, very, but he didn't want me t tell anyone except Hermione and Ron." He said, glancing to Hermione, who was now clutching to his right hand.

She looked up to him and gave a sad smile, and nodded slightly.

Professor McGonagall glared at the couple.

"Potter," (Harry registered the renewed used of his surname) "in the light of Professor Dumbledore's death, I think you must see that the situation has changed somewhat –"

"I don't think so," Hermione said suddenly, and then looked scandalized as she had just interrupted a Professor. "Professor Dumbledore never told him to stop following his orders if he died, did he, Harry?"

Harry shook his head, no.

There was a knock on the door behind them and Professors Sprout, Flitwick and Slughorn traipsed into the room, followed by Hagrid, who was still weeping copiously, his huge frame trembling with grief.

"Snape!" ejaculated Slughorn, who looked shaken, pale and sweating. "Snape! I taught him! I thought I knew him!"

But before any of them could respond to this, a sharp voice spoke from high on the wall: a sallow-faced wizard with a short, black fringe had just walked back into his empty canvas.

"Minerva, the Minister will be here within seconds, he has just Disapparated from the Ministry."

"Thank you, Everard," Professor McGonagall said, and she turned quickly to her teachers. "I want to talk about what happens to Hogwarts before he gets here," she said quickly. "Personally, I am not convinced that the school should reopen next year. The death of the Headmaster at the hands of one of our colleagues is a terrible stain upon Hogwarts' history. It is horrible."

"I am sure Dumbledore would have wanted the school to remain open," Professor Sprout said. "I feel that if a single pupil wants to come, then the school ought to remain open for that pupil."

"But will we have a single pupil after this?" Slughorn said, now dabbing his sweating brow with a silken handkerchief. "Parents will want to keep their children at home and I can't say I blame them. Personally, I don't think we're in more danger at Hogwarts than we are anywhere else, but you can't expect mothers to think like that. They'll want to keep their families together, it's only natural."

"I agree," Professor McGonagall said. "And in any case, it is not true to say that Dumbledore never envisaged a situation in which Hogwarts might close. When the Chamber of Secrets reopened he considered the closure of the school – and I must say that Professor Dumbledore's murder is more disturbing to me than the idea of Slytherin's monster living undetected in the bowels of the castle..."

"We must consult the governors," Professor Flitwick said in his squeaky little voice; he had a large bruise on his forehead but seemed otherwise unscathed by his collapse in Snape's office. "We must follow the established procedures. A decision should not be made hastily."

"Hagrid, you haven't said anything," Professor McGonagall noted. "What are your views, ought Hogwarts to remain open?"

Hagrid, who had been weeping silently into his large spotted handkerchief throughout this conversation, now raised puffy red eyes and croaked, "I dunno, Professor...that's fer the Heads of House an' the Headmistress ter decide..."

"Professor Dumbledore always valued your views," said Professor McGonagall kindly, "and so do I."

"Well, I'm stayin'," Hagrid finally said, fat tears still leaking out of the corners of his eyes and trickling down into his tangled beard. "It's me home, it's bin me home since I was thirteen. An' if the kids who wan' me ter teach 'em, I'll do it. But...I dunno...Hogwarts without Dumbledore..."

He gulped and disappeared behind his handkerchief once more, and there was silence.

"Very well," Professor McGonagall spoke again to break the silence. She glanced out of the window at the grounds, checking to see whether the Minister was yet approaching, "Then I must agree with Filius that the right thing to do is to consult the governors, who will make the final decision.

"Now, as to getting the students home...there is an argument for doing it sooner rather than later. We could arrange for the Hogwarts Express to come tomorrow if necessary – "

"What about Dumbledore's funeral?" Hermione said, speaking up again by again, interrupting a professor.

"Well..." Professor McGonagall, losing a little of her briskness as her voice shook, "I – I know that it was Dumbledore's wish to be laid to rest here, at Hogwarts –"

"Then that's what'll happen isn't it?" Hermione asked fiercely.

"If the Ministry thinks it appropriate," Professor McGonagall. "No other headmaster or headmistress has ever been –"

"No other headmaster or headmistress ever gave more to this school!" Hagrid growled.

"Hogwarts should be Dumbledore's final resting place," Hermione said.

"Absolutely," Professor Sprout agreed.

"And in that case," Harry said, "You shouldn't send the students home until the funeral's over. They'll want to say –"

The last word caught in his throat, but Hermione completed the sentence for him.

"Goodbye."

"Well said," Professor Flitwick squeaked. "Well said indeed! Our students should pay tribute, it is fitting. We can arrange transport home afterwards."

"Seconded," barked Professor Sprout.

"I suppose...yes..." Slughorn said in a rather agitated voice, while Hagrid let out a strangled sob of assent.

"He's coming," Professor McGonagall said suddenly, gazing down into the grounds. "The Minister...and by the looks of it, he's bought a delegation."

"Can we leave, Professor?" Harry said at once.

He had no desire at all to see, or be interrogated by, Rufus Scrimgeour tonight.

"You may," Professor McGonagall said, "and quickly."

She strode towards the door and held it open for the both of them. He sped down the spiral staircase and off along the deserted corridor, Hermione following beside him, both joined at the hands.

They didn't meet another soul until they turned into the passage leading to the Gryffindor common room.

"Is it true?" The Fat Lady whispered as they approached her. "Is it really true? Dumbledore – dead?"

"Yes." Hermione said simply, knowing Harry was nearly at breaking point.

She let out a wail and, without waiting for the password, swung forward to admit them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: The White Tomb**

All lessons were suspended, all examinations postponed. Some students were hurried away from Hogwarts by their parents over the next couple of days – the Patil twins were gone before breakfast on the morning following Dumbledore's death and Zacharias Smith was escorted from the castle by his haughty-looking father. Seamus Finnigan, on the other hand, refused point-blank to accompany his mother home; they had a shouting match in the Entrance Hall which was resolved when she agreed that he could remain behind for the funeral. She had difficulty in finding a bed in Hogsmead, Seamus told Harry and Ron, for Wizards and Witches were pouring into the village, preparing to pay their last respects to Dumbledore.

Some excitement was caused among the younger students, who had never seen it before, when a powder-blue carriage the size of a house, pulled by a dozen giant winged palominos, came soaring out of the sky in the late afternoon before the funeral and landed on the edge of the forest. Harry watched from the window as a gigantic and handsome olive-skinned, black haired women descended the carriage steps and threw herself into the waiting arms of Hagrid.

Meanwhile a delegation of Ministry officials, including the Minister for Magic himself, was being accommodated within the castle. Harry was diligently avoiding contact with any of them; he was sure that, sooner or later, he would be asked again to account for Dumbledore's last excursion from Hogwarts.

Harry and Hermione were spending all of their time together. The beautiful weather seemed to mock them; Harry could imagine how it would have been if Dumbledore had not died, and they had had this time together at the very end of the year.

"I suppose I'm just going to have to accept that he really is going to marry her," sighed Ginny later that evening, as she, Harry, Hermione and Ron sat beside the open window of the Gryffindor common room, talking about their plans for the summer, coming to Bill and Fleur's wedding.

"She's not that bad," Harry said. "Ugly, though." He hastily added as Hermione raised her eyebrows, before she gave him an affectionate smile.

The group hadn't been fazed when Harry and Hermione announced that they were together, as the majority already had partners. Ginny was with Neville, and had been since a few weeks after her 'in-the-moment kiss' she had had with Harry, which they both agreed was a mistake. Seamus was with Lavender Brown now, leaving Ron single.

"Well, I suppose if Mum can stand it, I can." Ginny said reluctantly.

"Anyone else we know died?" Ron asked Hermione, who was perusing the Evening Prophet, sitting in between Harry's legs, his arms hanging loosely around her waist.

Hermione winced at the forced toughness in his voice.

"No," she said reprovingly, folding up the newspaper and placing it on the arm of the chair. "They're still looking for Snape, but no sign..."

"Of course there isn't," Harry said, who became angry every time this subject cropped up. "They won't find Snape till they manage to find Voldemort, and seeing as they've never managed to do that in all this time –"

"- Harry." Hermione interrupted him, "Take a breath." She said, smiling slightly as she glanced over her shoulder at him.

Harry grumbled and buried his face into her neck, making her laugh and squirm.

"I'm going to go to bed," Ginny said, stifling a yawn. "I haven't been sleeping well since...well...I could do with some more."

She moved across the room to kiss Neville, (Ron looked away pointedly)waved at the others and departed for the girls' dormitories. The moment the door closed behind her, Hermione leaned backwards into Harry to get his attention, with the most Hermione-ish look on her face.

"Harry, while you were asleep this morning, I found something in the Library..."

"R.A.B.?" He asked, looking down at her quickly.

"No," she said sadly, "I've been trying, Harry, but I haven't found anything, I'm sorry. There are a couple of reasonably well-known wizards with those initials – Roland Antigone Bungs...Rupert 'Axebanger' Brookstanton...but they don't seem to fit at all. Judging by that note, the person who stole the Hocrux knew Voldemort, and I can't find a shred of evidence that Bungs or Axebanger ever had anything to do with him...no, it's about...well, Snape."

She looked nervous even saying the name again.

"What about him?" Harry asked heavily, tightening his arms around her waist.

"Well, it's just that I was sort of right about the Half-Blood Prince business," she said tentatively.

Harry frowned, before beginning to heave himself up from his seat. "D'you have to rub it in, 'Mione? How d'you think I feel about that now?"

Her face dropped even more as she quickly turned to face him properly, pushing him gently back down. "No – no – Harry, I didn't mean that!" She said hastily, "It's just that I was right about Eileen Prince once owning the book. You see...She was Snape's mother!"

"I thought she wasn't much of a looker," Ron said suddenly. Hermione ignored him, still watching Harry.

"I was going through the rest of the old _Prophet_s and there was a tiny announcement about Eileen Prince marrying a man called Tobias Snape, and then later an announcement saying that she'd given birth to a –"

"- Murderer," Harry spat.

Hermione sighed slightly, but gave in. "Well...yes. So...I was sort of right. Snape must have been proud of being 'Half a Prince', you see? Tobias Snape was a Muggle from what it said in the _Prophet._"

"Yeah, that fits," Harry said. "He'd play up the pure-blood side so he could get in with Lucius Malfoy and the rest of them...he's just like Voldemort. Pure-blood mother, Muggle father...ashamed of his parentage, trying to make himself feared using the Dark Arts, gave himself an impressive new name – _Lord_ Voldemort – the Half-Blood _Prince_ – how could Dumbledore have missed -?"

He broke off, looking out of the window. He could not stop himself dwelling upon Dumbledore's inexcusable trust in Snape...but as Hermione had just inadvertently reminded him, he, Harry, had been taken in just the same...in spite of the increasing nastiness of those scribbled spells, he had refused to believe ill of the boy who had been so clever, who had helped him so much...

_Helped_ him...it was an almost unendurable thought, now...

"He knew," Harry said bitterly. "He knew when I used _Sectumsempra_. He didn't need Legilimency...he might even have know before then, with Slughorn talking about how brilliant I was at Potions...shouldn't have left his old book in the bottom of that cupboard, should he?"

"But why didn't he turn you in?"

"I don't think he wanted to associate himself with that book, I don't think Dumbledore would have liked it very much if he'd known. And even if Snape pretended it hadn't been his, Slughorn would have recognized the writing at once. Anyway, the book was left in Snape's old classroom, and I'll bet Dumbledore knew his mother was called 'Prince'." Hermione said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, before looking back to Harry.

"I should've shown the book to Dumbledore," Harry said. "All that time he was showing me how Voldemort was evil, even when he was at school, and I had proof Snape was, too –"

"'Evil' is a strong word, Harry." Hermione said quietly, as she watched him.

"You were the one who kept telling me the book was dangerous!"

"I'm trying to say, Harry, that you're putting too much blame on yourself! I thought the Prince seemed to have a nasty sense of humour, but I would never have guessed he was a potential killer..."

"None of us guessed Snape would...you know." Ron said.

Silence fell between them, each of them lost in their own thoughts, but Harry was sure that they, like him, were thinking about the following morning, when Dumbledore's body would be laid to rest. Harry had never attended a funeral before; there had been no body to bury when Sirius had died. He did not know what to expect and was a little worried about what he might see, about how he would feel. He wondered whether Dumbledore's death would be more real to him once the funeral was over. Though he had moments when the horrible fact of it threatened to overwhelm him, there were blank stretches of numbness where, despite the fact that nobody was talking about anything else in the whole castle, he still found it difficult to believe that Dumbledore had really gone.

Admittedly he had not, as he had with Sirius, looked desperately for some kind of loophole, some way that Dumbledore could come back...he felt in his pocket for the cold chain of the fake hocrux, which he now carried with him everywhere, not as a talisman, but as a reminder of what it had cost and what remained still to do.

Harry rose early to pack the next day; the Hogwarts Express would be leaving an hour after the funeral . Downstairs he found the mood in the Great Hall subdued. Everybody was wearing their dress robes and no one seemed very hungry. Professor McGonagall had left the thronelike chair in the middle of the staff table empty. Hagrid's chair was deserted too: Harry thought that perhaps he had not been able to face breakfast; but Snape's place had been unceremoniously filled by Rufus Scrimgeour. Harry avoided his yellowish eyes as they scanned the Hall; Harry had the uncomfortable feeling that Scrimgeour was looking for him. Among Scrimgeour's entourage Harry spotted the red hair and horn-rimmed glasses of Percy Weasley. Ron gave no sign that he was aware of Percy, apart from stabbing pieces of kipper with unwonted venom.

Over at the Slytherin table Crabbe and Goyle were muttering together. Hulking boys though they were, they looked oddly lonely with the tall, pale figure of Malfoy between them, bossing them around. Harry had not spared Malfoy much thought. His animosity was all for Snape, but he had not forgotten the fear in Malfoy's voice on that Tower top, nor the fact that he had lowered his wand before the other Death Eaters arrived. Harry did not believe that Malfoy would have killed Dumbledore. He despised Malfoy still for his infatuation with the Dark Arts, but now the tiniest drop of pity mingled with his dislike. Where, Harry wondered, was Malfoy now, and what was Voldemort making him do under threat of killing him and his parents?

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by a nudge in the ribs from Hermione. Professor McGonagall had risen to her feet and the mournful hum in the Hall died away at once.

"It is nearly time," she said. "Please follow your Heads of House out into the grounds. Gryffindors, after me."

They filed out from behind their branches in the near silence. Harry glimpsed Slughorn at the head of the Slytherin column, wearing magnificent long emerald-green robes embroidered with silver. He had never seen Professor Sprout, Head of the Hufflepuffs, looking so clean; there was not a single patch on her hat, and when they reached the Entrance Hall, they found Madam Pince standing beside Filch, she in a thick black veil that fell to her knees, he in an ancient black suit and tie reeking of mothballs.

They were heading, as Harry saw when he stepped out on to the stone steps from the front doors, towards the lake. The warmth of the sun caressed his face as they followed Professor McGonagall in silence to the place where hundreds of chairs had been set out in rows. An aisle ran down the centre of them: there was a marble table standing at the front, all chairs facing it. It was the most beautiful summer's day.

An extraordinary assortment of people had already settled into half of the chairs: shabby and smart, old and young. Most Harry did not recognize, but there were a few that he did, including members of the Order of the Phoenix: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks, her hair miraculously returned to vividest pink, Remus Lupin, with whom she seemed to be holding hands, Mr and Mrs Weasley, Bill and Fleur, followed by Fred and George, who were wearing jackets of black dragon skin. Then there was Madame Maxime, who took up two and a half chairs on her own, Tom, the landlord of the Leaky Cauldron, Arabella Figg, Harry's squib neighbour, the hair bass player from the Wizarding group the Weird Sisters, Ernie Prang, driver of the Knight Bus, Madam Malkin, of the robe shop in Diagon Alley, and some people whom Harry merely knew by sight, such as the barman of the Hog's Head, and the witch who pushed the trolley on Hogwarts Express. The castle ghosts were there too, barely visible in the bright sunlight, discernible only when they moved, shimmering insubstantially in the gleaming air.

Harry and Hermione filed into seats at the end of a row beside the lake. People were whispering to each other; it sounded like a breeze in the grass, but the birdsong was louder by far. The crowd continued to swell; with a great rush of affection for both of them, Harry saw Ron being helped into a seat by Luna, not too far away from where Neville and Ginny sat. They alone of all of the DA had responded to Hermione's summons the night that Dumbledore died, and Harry knew why; they were the ones who had missed the DA most...probably the ones who had checked their coins regularly in the hope that there would be another meeting...

Cornelius Fudge walked past the couple towards the front rows, his expression miserable, twirling his green bowler hat as usual: Harry next recognized Rita Skeeter, who, he was infuriated to see, had a notebook clutched in her red-taloned hand; and then, with a rose jolt of fury, Dolores Umbridge, an unconvincing expression of grief upon her toad-like face, a black velvet bow set atop her iron-coloured curls. At the sight of the centaur Firenze, who was standing like a sentinel near the water's edge, she gave a start and scurried hastily into a seat a good distance away.

The staff were seated at last. Harry could see Scrimgeour looking grave and dignified in the front row with Professor McGonagall. He wondered whether Scrimgeour or any of these important people were really sorry that Dumbledore was dead. But then he heard music, strange, otherworldly music, and he forgot his dislike of the Ministry in looking around for the source of it. He was not the only one: many heads were turning, searching, a little alarmed.

"In there," Hermione whispered into Harry's ear.

And he saw them in the clear green sunlit water, inches below the surface, reminding him horribly of the Inferi; a chorus of merpeople singing in a strange language he did not understand, their pallid faces rippling, their purplish hair flowing all around them. The music made the hair on Harry's neck stand up and yet it was not unpleasant. It spoke very clearly of loss and despair. As he looked down into the wild faces of the singers he had the feeling that they, at least, were sorry for Dumbledore's passing. Then Hermione nudged him again and he looked around.

Hagrid was walking slowly up the aisle between the chairs. He was crying quite silently, his face gleaming with tears, and in his arms, wrapped in purple velvet spangled with golden stars, was what Harry knew to be Dumbledore's body. A sharp pain rose in Harry's throat at the sight: for a moment, the strange music and the knowledge that Dumbledore's body was so close seemed to take all warmth from the day. Tears were falling fast and freely into both Harry and Hermione's laps.

They could not see clearly what was happening at the front. Hagrid seemed to have placed the body carefully upon the table. Now he retreated down the aisle, blowing his nose with loud trumpeting noises that drew scandalised looks from some, including, Harry saw, Dolores Umbridge...but Harry knew Dumbledore would not have cared. He tried to make a friendly gesture to Hagrid as he passed, but Hagrid's eyes were so swollen it was a wonder he could see where he was going. Harry glanced at the back row to which Hagrid was heading and realised what was guiding him, for there, dressed in a jacket and trousers each the size of a small marquee, was the giant Grawp, his great ugly boulder-like head bowed, docile, almost human. Hagrid sat down next to his half-brother and Grawp patted Hagrid hard on the head, so that his chair legs sank into the ground. Harry had a wonderful momentary urge to laugh. But then the music stopped and he turned to face the front again.

A little tufty-haired man in plain black dress robes had got to his feet and stood now in front of Dumbledore's body. Harry couldn't hear what he was saying. Odd words floated back to them over the hundreds of heads. "Nobility of Spirit"..."intellectual contribution"..."greatness of heart"...it did not mean very much. It had little to do with Dumbledore as Harry had known him. He suddenly remembered Dumbledore's idea of a few words: "nitwit", "oddment", "blubber" and "tweak", and again, had to suppress a grin...what was the matter with him?

There was a soft splashing noise to his left and he saw that the merpeople had broken the surface to listen, too. He remembered Dumbledore crouching at the water's edge two years ago, very close to where Harry now sat, and conversing in Mermish. There was so much he had never asked him, so much he could have said...

And then, without warning, it swept over him, the dreadful truth, more completely and undeniably than it had until now. Dumbledore was dead, gone...he clutched the cold locket in his hand so tightly that it hurt, but he could prevent hot tears spilling from his eyes: he looked away from Hermione and stared out over the lake, towards the Forest, as the little man in black droned on...there was movement among the trees. The centaurs had come to pay their respects, too. They did not move into the open but Harry saw them standing still, half-hidden in shadow, watching the wizards, theirs bows hanging at their sides. And Harry remembered his first nightmarish trip into the Forest, the first time he had ever encountered the thing that was then Voldemort, and how he had faced him, and how he and Dumbledore had discussed fighting a losing battle not long thereafter. It was important, Dumbledore said, to fight, and fight again, and keep fighting, for only then could evil be kept at bay, though never quite eradicated...

And Harry saw very clearly as he sat there under the hot sun how people who cared about him had stood in front of him one by one, his mother, his father, his godfather, and finally Dumbledore, all determined to protect him; but now that was over. He could not let anybody else stand between him and Voldemort; he must abandon forever the illusion he ought to have lost at the age of one: that the shelter of a parent's arms meant nothing could hurt him. There was no waking from his nightmare, no comforting whisper in the dark that he was safe really, that it was all in his imagination; the last and greatest of his protectors had died and he was more alone than he had ever been before.

The little man in black had stopped speaking at last and resumed his seat. Harry waited for somebody else to get to their feet; he expected speeches, probably from the Minister, but nobody moved.

Then several people screamed. Bright, white flames had erupted around Dumbledore's body and the table upon which it lay: higher they rose, obscuring the body. White smoke spiralled into the air and made strange shapes: Harry thought, for one heart-stopping moment, that he saw a phoenix fly joyfully into the blue, but next second the fire had vanished. In its place was a white marble tomb, encasing Dumbledore's body and the table on which he had rested.

There were a few more cries of shock as a shower of arrows soared through the air, but they fell far short of the crowd. It was, Harry knew, the centaurs' tribute: he saw them turn tail and disappear back into the cool trees. Likewise the merpeople sank slowly back into the green water and were lost from view.

Harry looked over to Ginny, Ron and then Hermione to see their reactions: Ron's face was screwed up as though the sunlight was blinding him. Ginny's face was glazed over with tears, but Hermione was no longer crying. She met Harry's gaze with the same hard, blazing look that he had seen when she had kissed him on the staircase to the Astronomy Tower, and knew that at that moment they understood each other perfectly, and that when he told her what he was going to do now, she would not argue, but accept his decision, because she would not have expected anything less of him.

"We're not coming back, are we?" Hermione asked after a moment of silence.

Harry shook his head. "No. At least; I'm not. I would understand it if you didn't want to come with –"

"- I'm not leaving you, Harry. I've told you already!" She said in frustration.

Harry nodded, trying to placate her. "I know...But I understand how important education is to you –"

"- You're more important to me than education is." Hermione said quietly, taking his hand.

Harry nodded, squeezing her hand. "You're the most important thing in my life, Hermione. I want you to be happy."

Hermione smiled slightly. "You make me happy. It's that simple."

Harry smiled back, knowing it was stupid to even try and argue with Hermione. "Ok." He said quietly, nodding.

They went back into companionable silence, watching as everyone cried or talked, or both. Ron, Harry saw, was now holding Luna and stroking her hair while she sobbed into his shoulder, tears dripping from the end of his own long nose. With a miserable gesture, Harry got up, turned his back on Dumbledore's tomb and walked away around the lake. Moving felt more bearable than sitting still: just as setting out as soon as possible to track down the Horcruxes and kill Voldemort would feel better than waiting to do it...

"Harry!"

He turned. Rufus Scrimgeour was limping rapidly towards him around the bank, leaning on his walking stick.

"I've been hoping to have a word...do you mind if I walk a little way with you?"

"No," Harry said indifferently, and set off again.

"Harry, this was a dreadful tragedy," Scrimgeour said quietly, "I cannot tell you how appalled I was to hear of it. Dumbledore was a very great wizard. We had our disagreements, as you know, but no one knows better than I –"

"What do you want?" Harry asked flatly.

"Scrimgeour looked annoyed but, as before, hastily modified his expression to one of sorrowful understanding.

"You are, of course, devastated," he said, "I know that you were very close to Dumbledore. I think you may have been his favourite ever pupil. The bond between the two of you –"

"What do you want?" Harry repeated, coming to a halt.

Scrimgeour stopped too, leaned on his stick and stared at Harry, his expression shrewd now.

"The word is that you were with him when he left the school the night he died."

"Whose word?" Harry asked.

"Somebody Stupefied a Death Eater on top of the Tower after Dumbledore died. There were also two broomsticks up there. The Ministry can add two and two, Harry."

"Glad to hear it," Harry said, "Well, where I went with Dumbledore and what we did is my business. He didn't want people to know."

"Such loyalty is admirable, of course," Scrimgeour said, who seemed to be restraining his irritation with difficulty, "but Dumbledore is gone, Harry. He's gone."

"He will only be gone from the school when none here are loyal to him," Harry said, smiling in spite of himself.

"My dear boy...even Dumbledore cannot return from the –"

"I am not saying he can. You wouldn't understand. But I've got nothing to tell you."

Scrimgeour hesitated, then said, in what was evidently supposed to be a tone of delicacy, "The Ministry can offer you all sorts of protection, you know, Harry. I would be delighted to place a couple of my Aurors at your service –"

"Voldemort wants to kill me himself and Aurors won't stop him. So thanks for the offer, but no thanks."

"So," Scrimgeour said, his voice cold now, "the request I made of you at Christmas –"

"What request? Oh yeah...the one where I tell the world what a great job you're doing in exchange for –"

"- for raising everyone's morale!" snapped Scrimgeour.

Harry considered him for a moment.

"Released Stan Shunpike yet?"

Scrimgeour turned a nasty purple colour highly reminiscent of Uncle Vernon.

"I see you are –"

"Dumbledore's man through and through," Harry said. "That's right."

Scrimgeour glared at him for another moment, then turned and limped away without another word. Harry could see Percy and the rest of the Ministry delegation waiting for him, casting nervous glances at the sobbing Hagrid and Grawp, who were still in their seats. Ron and Hermione were hurrying towards Harry, passing Scrimgeour going in the opposite direction; Harry turned and walked slowly on, waiting for them to catch up, which they finally did in the shade of a beech tree under which they had sat in happier times.

"What did Scrimgeour want?" Hermione whispered, stepping in front of him.

"Same as he wanted at Christmas," Harry shrugged, as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Wanted me to give him inside information on Dumbledore and be the Ministry's poster boy."

Hermione remained quiet, instead wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her chin on his shoulder.

Ron seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, then he said loudly, "Look, let me go back and hit Percy!"

"No," she said firmly, not moving out of Harry's arms.

"It'll make me feel better!" Ron whined.

Harry laughed. He could even feel Hermione grinning a little, though her smile faded as she looked up at the castle.

"How can it be closed?" She said sadly.

"Maybe it won't," Ron said. "We're not in any more danger here than we are at home, are we? Every where's the same now. I'd even say Hogwarts is safer, there are more wizards inside to defend the place. What d'you reckon, Harry?"

"I'm not coming back even if it does reopen," Harry answered.

Ron gaped at him, but Hermione remained silent again, snuggling into the crook of Harry's neck.

Harry smiled at her, before continuing his answer to Ron. "I'm going back to the Dursley's once more, because Dumbledore wanted me to. But it'll be a short visit, and then I'll be gone for good."

"But where will you go if you don't come back to school?"

"I thought I might go back to Godric's Hollow," Harry muttered into Hermione's ear, but loud enough for Ron to hear. He had had the idea in his head ever since the night of Dumbledore's death. "For me, it started there, all of it. I've just got a feeling I need to go there. And I can visit my parents' graves, I'd like that."

"And then what?" Ron said.

"Then I've got to track down the rest of the Horcruxes, haven't I?" Harry said with a sigh, his eyes upon Dumbledore's white tomb, reflected in the water on the other side of the lake. "That's what he wanted me to do, that's why he told me all about them. If Dumbledore was right – and I'm sure he was – there are still four of them out there. I've got to find them and destroy them and then I've got go after the seventh bit of Voldemort's soul, the bit that's still in his body, and I'm the one who's going to kill him. And if I meet Severus Snape along the way," He added as an after though, "so much the better for me, so much the worse for him."

"We're with you whatever happens," Ron said, "But, mate, you're going to have to come round my mum and dad's house before we do anything else, even Godric's Hollow."

"Why?"

"Bill and Fleur's wedding, remember?"

Harry looked at him, startled; the idea that anything as normal as a wedding could still exist seemed incredible and wonderful.

"Yeah, we shouldn't miss that," He said finally, glancing down to Hermione, who stretched up onto her toes to give Harry a sweet kiss, before resting her forehead onto his.

Harry's mind automatically went onto the fake Horcrux, but in spite of everything, in spite of the dark and twisting path he saw stretching ahead of himself, in spite of the final meeting with Voldemort he knew must come, whether in a month, in a year, or in ten, he felt his heart lift at the thought that there was still one last person who could bring him peace.


End file.
